[fic] Minho/Key – SHINee – High Maintenance - Chapter 9/10

[rabenhorst]

Title: High Maintenance; Chapter 9/10
Author: fonulyn
Rating: NC17 (overall)
Pairing: Minho/girl!Key (Minho/Gwiboon)
Other characters: Jonghyun, Onew, Zhou Mi, Boa, girl!Taemin (some are around more than others)
Warnings: --
Wordcount: 47 200 (overall); 5610 for this part
Disclaimer: I own no one, only my dirty imagination.
Summary: When Gwiboon's car breaks down she expects the repairs to be an annoying hassle. Not in her wildest dreams had she hoped for an illegally hot mechanic to be there to ease her hardships.
Comments: Previous parts: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8

When they put their ad in the paper and the job available online, Minho was pretty certain they wouldn’t get a lot of qualified applicants. So he’s positively surprised when there’s not only one he can invite for a job interview, but actually three candidates that look fairly good on paper. He knows that only face-to-face interview can give him a proper impression, though, so he arranges to see all of them one by one. And he’s right, after the interviews, he knows for certain which candidate he is going to hire. Maybe this Lee Donghae guy doesn’t have the most impressive papers or working experience, but he seems bubbly and easy to get along with, and Minho is sure he’s a better addition to their staff than either of the more stuck up men he interviewed. He’s about to type up all of the needed paperwork, already planning how he’s going to call their new soon-to-be employee the first thing tomorrow, when there’s a light knock at the door. He looks up, surprised to see that Jonghyun is still there. He thought he’d left already a while ago, after he finished up with the motorbike he’d been working on. “Hey, buddy, there’s some rich guy in a suit asking for you,” Jonghyun stage-whispers. Thankfully they’re in a separate room, so it’s not like his voice will be heard in the main hall, where the rich guy in a suit is apparently waiting. “It’s either our new valued customer or a lawyer to sue our asses, I don’t know which.” Minho hums in amusement. “I’ll go ask them.” As soon as Minho walks into the next room he recognizes the man waiting for him, and that’s already enough to send Minho’s good mood plummeting down. Nothing good can come of this. “Mr Kim,” he begins politely, greeting the man with a bow, “how can I help you?” He has no good guess as for why Gwiboon’s father would suddenly appear at his garage, surely there are ones better suited for him. “My wife and I are concerned,” Mr Kim begins, without any semblance of a greeting. He’s an impressive man, and it’s clear he’s spent the majority of his life in leading positions, with the way the authority just oozes out of him. “We don’t think that your relationship with our daughter is good for her. Thus I am here, asking you to end it. You’ve had your fun, now it’s time to let her get on with her life. I’m sure you can understand my point of view.” In retrospect, Minho thinks he should’ve probably expected something like that. Yet he’s taken by surprise, and it makes him stiffen as he fights the wave of anger that surges through him. His tone is completely calm and polite though, and he’s pretty certain he manages to keep his expression in check as well. “With all due respect, sir, you should talk to Gwiboon. I don’t make her decisions for her.” The man scoffs. “My daughter is stubborn. Had I suggested her to change her mind, she would go against my will just on principle.” He says it like it’s enough explanation, like Minho should just readily agree to what he’s suggesting. Minho doesn’t. He has no intention to. “What makes you think I’m any less stubborn?” Instead of answering instantly, Mr Kim takes his time to look around the small garage. His expression already tells everything necessary about how disgusted he is by the place, how he thinks it’s unworthy of his presence. “Tell me, son. How much do you make a year? The same amount I make in a week? Maybe less. How do you intend to make sure my daughter can maintain her current lifestyle if she’s cut off from the family funding and only dependant on you?” The conversation is already turning so absurd that Minho can’t hold back the burst of laughter. He shakes his head, disbelieving. “I’m sure she doesn’t even need me to get by. She’s perfectly capable of managing her own life.” The perfect, businesslike posture cracks only for a second, before Mr Kim is back to only looking annoyed by the situation. “She doesn’t even have a job. What makes you think she’d so readily plummet herself into poverty, just for you?” His tone is getting more and more unfriendly with every word, as if he expected this to be a lot easier. It takes all Minho has to keep himself calm, and to answer as politely as he can. “Mr Kim, I still think you should be directing all of these questions at Gwiboon. I’m not her spokesman.” “I am willing to pay you.” That, now, takes Minho by surprise more than anything. His eyes fly wide and he gapes at the older man, before he manages to stutter an unsure “Excuse me?” “Here,” Mr Kim begins, simultaneously pulling his check book from inside of his suit jacket. He writes rapidly for a moment, before handing Minho the slip of paper. It’s a generous amount, enough to keep Minho from working for years if he so wishes. It’s enough to rent another place for his garage, or to hire more people to work for him. “You can cash this right away. And as soon as you break up with her, I’ll have another one sent to this address.” The large number on the check only makes Minho feel sick. For a second, he considers ripping it to shreds, to let go of some of the anger, but eventually only calmly hands it back to the other man. He raises his chin, defiantly, along with his best attempt to stare the man down. “I think you need to leave. Now.” Mr Kim looks at him with an arched eyebrow for a second. Then, he grabs the check, turning on his heels. “Very well.” There’s not another word exchanged as he walks out, closing the door behind himself, and for some reason all of the silence makes Minho feel more uneasy than the whole exchange before it. It feels like a promise of more, like a threat he cannot respond to. Jonghyun’s voice startles Minho out of his thoughts, and when he turns he sees his friend has been watching the whole time, leaning against the black Camaro still standing in their shop. “Wow, what a dick! For a second there I was sure you’d strangle him with your bare hands.” He doesn’t look too far from that himself, either, with the way his face is scrunched up in an angry frown. Now that the moment is gone, Minho notices his hands are shaking, with the anger and frustration that accumulated throughout it. “If he ever comes back here, don’t let him in.” “No worries, man, I’ve got your back.” Jonghyun grins, that familiar expression calming Minho’s nerves easier than the previously shared anger. “Gwiboon would be proud of you. Even I think you looked hot when you just handed that check back like it was nothing.” Minho chuckles. “I’m just glad she didn’t need to see any of this.” He sighs, allowing all air to escape from his lungs, and runs his fingers through his hair. “Wanna go grab a beer? I don’t think I’m up for finishing the paperwork anymore tonight.” “Sure!” Jonghyun agrees readily. “What are friends for?” It’s not often that Minho wakes up with a gigantic hangover. He’s usually the responsible drinker, or the designated driver, mostly because he doesn’t like the way the world spins out of his control and how the next morning is Hell on Earth. But apparently an uncomfortable confrontation with your girlfriend’s father can do that to a man, since when he carefully cracks an eye open he feels as if someone is sitting in the back of his skull and trying to bash it into pieces with a hammer. The worst part isn’t even the headache, the way light hurts his eyes even through his eyelids, or the way his temples throb with every sluggish beat of his heart. The worst part is how he aches all over, feels like hurling his intestines on the floor and just wants to burrow into the covers and never get up. His throat is dry like sandpaper, too, and he’d kill for a gallon of water right now. Convicted to his misery, Minho groans and tries to roll over, only to notice belatedly that there’s weight set on his legs that prevents him from doing so. Carefully, very carefully, he opens one eye again, trying to let his sight to adjust to light enough. “Gwiboon?” he asks, voice gravelly, as he recognizes her back. Why the fuck would she sit on his legs, hunched over in concentration? There’s no rational explanation to this, and the most eloquent question he can come up with is “What?” The only answer he gains is a giggle. It’s somewhat alarming and he props himself up on his elbows, immediately regretting his decision as his head feels like exploding and his shoulders protest against the movement. “What are you doing?” he asks again, and finally she turns around, carefully crawling a bit higher until their faces are almost touching. She sets something aside, but Minho doesn’t get a good look at the small item before it rolls off the bed and lands on the floor with a soft thud. “Hold still,” she says, raising one slender finger in warning. Then she reaches for the nightstand, and when she hands Minho a glass of water and two little white pills, Minho is about ready to ask her to marry him. He drinks all of the water in one huge gulp, while swallowing the painkillers, and is still left thirsty afterwards. Yet Gwiboon doesn’t budge, and apparently has no intention to for a while. “Do you remember anything from last night?” Gwiboon asks, grinning, with a slight hint of malice in it. When she receives a headshake, one that immediately makes Minho grimace, she laughs. “You and Jonghyun appeared here singing so loud you probably woke up the whole neighbourhood. You tried to serenade me, before I managed to drag your ass into bed, and you can be grateful I bothered to wrestle you out of the most of your clothes!” “I …what? Serenade?” Minho’s eyes widen in shock. There’s just too much information to take in, in those couple of sentences. “Where’s Jjong?” “I called him a cab and he’s safely at home, Taeyeon confirmed that. And hey,” Gwiboon’s expression softens as she smiles at him, bringing one hand up to cup his cheek in her palm. “Your singing isn’t half-bad. I bet you could do really well if you weren’t drunk and half out of your mind. You’re welcome to try it again but not in the corridor, and not while the neighbours are trying to sleep.” Minho can feel how his face is practically radiating heat with the embarrassed flush. “I’m not really a singer. Usually it’s Jjong who serenades people, I guess he’s bad influence on me.” “I don’t really want dramatic love confessions from him, though,” she grins brightly, but there’s a curious tilt to her head. “Why were you getting absolutely smashed, though?” There’s even a hint of concern in her voice as she knows it’s not really habitual for Minho. A few beers, or even being slightly drunk, why not. But coming home barely able to walk? Not so common. The question brings a pang of guilt, and Minho can taste the bile that rises in his mouth, the urge to throw up suddenly back. “We,” he begins, but then falls silent for a good while. He can’t tell Gwiboon that her father tried to bribe him to breaking up with her. She might not hold any illusions about her parents, but knowing that would be plain cruel. So before he even knows it, the white lie slips from his lips. “I finished interviewing the applicants and there’s one suitable so we celebrated the decision to hire him.” “Oh?” Her expression brightens. “That’s so cool! I told you that you’d find someone as soon as you advertise a little! I hope you hired someone that’s easy on the eyes… A girl’s gotta have some nice things to look at.” She winks obnoxiously. And despite the hangover, he knows that’s worth a revenge so in a quick motion he rolls them over, pinning her to the mattress to tickle her. She screeches with laughter, trying to bat his hands away. “No, no! No! Stop! Your toes!” It’s the last one that makes Minho stop. His toes? What the hell do his toes have to do with this? With anything? With a huff he falls to the side and off her, looking down at his feet – only to be greeted with bright pink toenails. The nail polish glints in the light and oh god is that really glitter on it? “What the – ?” he opens and closes his mouth a few times, not even knowing how to react. Gwiboon has sit up and is now grinning at him brightly, unable to hold back the stray bursts of laughter. “Look. We match.” She holds up her hand and indeed, her nails are painted the exact same colour. It doesn’t really explain anything, and his expression must tell as much since she just shrugs. “I just felt like you needed an adequate punishment for not telling me you’d go get shitfaced, okay.” She doesn’t sound like she’s mad, quite the contrary, but it must make sense to her on some level. He just shrugs. “Fine. Where do you keep the nail polish remover?” “You will never find out!” she announces and practically bounces off the bed in her haste to run away. Minho doesn’t follow, not instantly. He drops back into bed, allowing himself a moment of just sinking into the cushions. He feels slightly better now that he’s actually awake and got some water, and he knows this is nothing that some breakfast and more water won’t fix. He just needs a bit of time. And well, bright pink toenails aren’t really an issue big enough to ruin his day. Eventually Minho drags himself out of bed and into the shower. Dressed in a pair of old, worn and soft sweats and a plain t-shirt he pads into the living room, his painted toenails glinting in the light as if mocking him with every step. Somehow even that just makes him grin, though, and he shakes his head at his own ridiculousness. He needs some food, ASAP, and some water, preferably at least a barrel of it. He doesn’t even make it to the kitchen though, since as soon as he steps into the living room he stops dead in his tracks. There’s a full dinner – or lunch? – set on the floor, on top of an old picnic blanket that looks like it’s seen the best of its days. Basically it’s a bunch of takeout containers, and three pitchers of water, arranged carefully. If that now isn’t a sight for the sore eyes. Everything gets even better when Gwiboon emerges from the kitchen, holding a gigantic cup of coffee that she hands to Minho with a smile. “Now, sit your gorgeous ass down and we can finally eat. I’ve been waiting for you to wake up, starving. You’ve never slept this long, I swear.” Minho has half a mind to ask what time it is but then he just decides he doesn’t care. The first sip of coffee is like heaven, and he closes his eyes for a second to appreciate it. He doesn’t wait long to obey the orders he got, though, and sits down on the floor next to Gwiboon so that they can both lean against the couch while they tackle the impressive amount of food. She’s dressed in one of his old soccer jerseys, big enough on her to work as a short dress, and his heart does something stupid in his chest. When did he start leaving half of his clothes at Gwiboon’s place, anyway? “Is it still too early in the morning for your vocal chords to function?” Gwiboon asks, teasingly, as he just keeps staring for a while, cradling the mug of coffee between his palms. She reaches out to flick him on the nose, before snatching the closest container of food to shovel some of the fried rice on her plate. “Hey,” Minho begins, his voice slightly rough again from the lack of use. “Thanks.” He is indeed starving, his grumbling stomach reminds him, and he downs the rest of his coffee in one go to set the cup aside. He has no idea what’s in the containers but he’s not a picky eater so he reaches for one at random. The food is still hot, so it must’ve arrived while he was showering, and somehow he totally missed it. Not that he’s complaining, not when everything tastes absolutely delicious. At first they eat in silence, before Gwiboon begins asking him random questions, ranging from his favourite food as a child to if he had any pets, from his dream car to the next place he would like to travel to. Slowly he begins to not only answer the questions but to shoot some in turn, and it’s like a game while they work through the masses of food she’s ordered. It makes her giddy to notice how many of the answers she already knows, or manages to guess correctly, and she makes a triumphant fistpump when she gets Minho’s favourite cologne right. It’s not even the one he uses most often, because it’s apparently too expensive, so she congratulates herself doubly and swears she’ll buy him ten bottles of the stuff. She takes a sip of water and carefully sets the glass down, before dropping the next question. “Do you want kids?” It makes her startle, slightly, since wow that escalated fast. She was going to ask if Minho’s brother has any kids, and she has no idea how the question managed to re-form on her tongue. Minho doesn’t seem phased though. He doesn’t even pause chewing, and as soon as he’s swallowed he nods. “Yes.” He looks at her, a slight smile dancing on his lips as if he knows that she didn’t intend to ask that right now. “Eventually.” Somehow the question doesn’t feel as big anymore, and she laughs, shaking her head a bit. “Good that you added that. I don’t think there are any children in my five-year plan.” Not that she has a five-year-plan, really. She did before Minho appeared into her life, but now she’s pretty much just resigned to wait and see what’s waiting along the ride. “But when the time is right, yeah, why not.” she adds, after a short silence. “How many?” “What?” Minho looks confused for a second, but then realizes they’re still talking about kids and gives a small shrug. “Oh. Two?” It sounds like a question more than a statement, so Gwiboon throws in a wild guess that he hasn’t exactly thought about this before. She hasn’t, at least. There’s never been anyone she would’ve wanted to actually stick with for good, so she hasn’t needed to give these things an actual, serious thought. “Two sounds good,” she decides with a nod, her eyes on a prawn she’s trying to fish – no pun intended – out of the thin sauce in an otherwise almost empty container. “But not at the same time! I’ve seen how Jonghyun sometimes looks like he hasn’t slept for a decade and gosh, no, twins must be horrible.” Minho doesn’t even try to cover up his grin. “I don’t think that’s something we can decide.” “Shush.” Gwiboon waves a dismissive hand at him. “I just did! Besides, not in the five-year-plan, remember?” She leans back, completely stuffed and unable to eat another bite. There’s still food in the containers, though, and she watches as Minho sets out to dig through them for the best bits. Even if they both know he’s probably going to end up eating it all, in the end. Maybe it’s a little mean but Gwiboon waits until Minho manages to stuff his mouth full, before breaking the silence. “I want a dog, though.” As wished, Minho nearly chokes on the rice, coughing to clear his airways before he manages a surprised reply. “A dog?” “A dog,” she repeats. “What’s wrong with that?” “No, nothing!” He laughs, raising a hand in a universal sign of defeat. “I just could’ve sworn you’re a cat person.” “I like both,” she says, and with that the case is closed, for now. It’s not the right time yet for children, but it’s not the right time yet for a pet, either, but she’s content that they can talk about it anyway. Even if it wasn’t a part of the plan for today. With a small grin, she decides to go back to the original questioning. “So, what was your favourite movie when you were eight? Please tell me it was something girly, I’d love to imagine you sobbing at a Disney movie.” “Disney isn’t girly,” he grumbles, but obligingly answers the question anyway. There’s really nothing that could ruin his mood right now, not even the happenings of the previous day. As vague as the whole conversation is, when one gets down to it, everything about it implies that Gwiboon has her mind set to stick with him for long time to come. There’s a dark shadow looming somewhere in the back of his mind as it’s impossible to completely forget about the conversation he had with her father, but he determinedly ignores it the best he can. It doesn’t matter, anyway. This matters. Working at the garage has ensured that Gwiboon has grown to know Jonghyun really well, too, and the two have struck up a friendship that no one really expected at first. They still mock each other ruthlessly, but now something in it has shifted and it’s not really aimed to insult anymore, it’s more the way they work, the way they show they do care. They also notice that they make a pretty efficient pair when trying to do inventory at the garage, as Jonghyun rattles off everything for Gwiboon to list. If it were Minho doing it, she would probably be tempted to do something to distract him from such a boring, tedious task. That’s one reason the two stay behind when Minho goes to take care of some errands after closing time. Jonghyun keeps babbling and interrupting their work for some reason, though, and as much as Gwiboon wants to yell at him for it she finds herself mostly amused. “You wouldn’t believe what a hangover I had yesterday!” he announces, leaning into a big cabinet so that his voice echoes from inside it. “I bet you woke Minho up all nicely, but me? I woke up to a baby screeching in my ear and Taeyeon screeching in the other until I got up to change poopy diapers. I swear, that is not a way any human being wants to wake up!” He pauses his complaints to squint at something, and Gwiboon takes the opportunity to prod him in his side with her pen. It makes Jonghyun yelp and swat at her blindly, but she easily sidesteps the attempt. “Your own fault for celebrating too eagerly! You could’ve kept a level head like adults. Or, I don’t know, at least invited me along.” That makes Jonghyun pull his head back from the cabinet and frown at her. “Celebrating?” Instantly, little alarm bells go off in Gwiboon’s mind and she stares right back at him, as if willing to make him pinpoint what it is. “…why were you drinking?” she asks slowly, when no answer is forthcoming on its own. It seems like Jonghyun realizes something, albeit a little belatedly, and quickly tries to retreat back into the cabinet. “No we were totally celebrating. Yes, celebrating.” He is sort of mumbling, though, and when he tries to rattle off the next things to list, Gwiboon all but slams her pen and notepad down to grab his waist and pull him out of the goddamn piece of furniture. She doesn’t really give him any chance to lie. She can be convincing when she wants to, so within the next few minutes she already knows everything about her father’s visit to the garage, about Minho’s reaction to it, and about the drinking that ensued right after. She suddenly feels sick, unable to determine if she’s angry or hurt or some sort of a mixture of both, along with a million other feelings surging through her. “We’re finished here,” she says absently, as she hurries out of the garage. Instinctively she grabs her phone and shoots Jinki a text, something along the lines of I’m going to fucking kill my family, just because it’s always been a second nature for her to inform him whenever something is horribly amiss. Her phone instantly beeps with an answer but she doesn’t even check it, beyond caring at this point. Either Gwiboon has the shittiest luck ever, or this is some sort of divine intervention, since she barely gets to her car when her mobile beeps again and it’s her mother calling. She’s just finished thinking that she won’t answer a single message or call from her parents, but she picks up anyway. Instead of listening to what her mother has to say, she seethes into the phone. “Don’t you dare ever mess with my life again, do you hear me!?” Mrs Kim only sounds confused. “What? Gwiboon, what are you –” Gwiboon won’t have any of that so she cuts her mother off impatiently, her volume rising as she gets more and more agitated. “I know you sent father to bribe Minho and I know you have some more tricks up your sleeve but guess what, you can forget about them! I can’t believe you stooped so low! How much did you offer him? How fucking much am I worth, mother?” “Darling, calm down,” Mrs Kim says, and while it might sound calm to anyone else Gwiboon knows the layers of disappointment and aggravation in her voice. “You know you shouldn’t talk like that to your mother.” “Fuck you. You’re trying to ruin the best thing that has happened to me, and I won’t stand by and watch you do it! You have no right to interfere!” By the end of it there are passers-by looking at her oddly, some even slowing down, but she doesn’t care. She’s so angry she feels like she could just break something. There’s a tense silence, but it only lasts a heartbeat. “I know what’s best for my own daughter.” Gwiboon laughs. Yet there’s nothing happy about it. “No. You really don’t. And don’t bother even trying to contact me again before you finally realize that.” She doesn’t wait for a reply, but ends the call before her mother can get a single word in. She even deletes her number, just because it gives her some sort of twisted satisfaction right then. Now, in theory, things could end there. Practically? Not so much. Gwiboon knows it’s not that easy to cut ties with her parents. Not when she lives in an apartment owned by them, not when her studies are financed by them. She has never been more grateful of the fact that she almost has her degree, at least then there’s one thing less to worry about. She does know, however, that she doesn’t want to take a single thing from her parents anymore, neither good nor bad. Not before they come crawling on their knees to apologize to Minho, before they acknowledge that they have crossed some serious boundaries here. She doesn’t even want to see them, and the thought of living in the same city with them already turns her stomach. Maybe it’s the recent melancholy, maybe it’s because Boa has been dropping hints of her having a job offer in their fashion house, maybe it’s the way she’s been dwelling in her memories for weeks, or maybe it’s plain anger. But the more she thinks of this, the more convinced she is that the only way to truly get rid of her parents and their control, to escape this epic disaster, is to run. To China. By the time Gwiboon hits the brakes in front of Minho’s apartment building she’s only surviving on running that thought in her head like a mantra. She’s never been this angry in her life, never felt this betrayed, and the adrenaline keeps pumping through her veins. She hasn’t managed to calm down at all, quite the contrary, and if she’d spare it a single thought right now she’d know she probably shouldn’t have been driving in the state she’s in. The agitation must show since the second she steps into the apartment – after ringing the doorbell and then letting herself in with her own key – Minho looks at her like he’s seen a ghost. “What’s wrong?” he asks, truly concerned, but none of that reaches Gwiboon right now. “Why didn’t you tell me that my father tried to warn you off?” she demands, and a part of her wants to just grab Minho and shake him for keeping secrets like this from her. All she does however is take a few agitated steps forward, and point an accusing finger at him. “I deserved to know that!” Minho looks honestly chastised. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you, I just… couldn’t.” He shrugs, aware of how lame it sounds now, after it’s all done and too late to change things. Rationally, he knows he should’ve told her, but still… he would probably make the same decision all over again. Quickly, Gwiboon steps forward until she’s standing right before Minho. Even in her high heels she’s considerably shorter than him, so she grabs his shoulders to pull him closer, face to face. She looks completely serious, completely earnest, as she looks him straight in the eye. “Run away with me.” “What?” Minho almost takes a step back in surprise, eyes wide. “Run away with me,” she repeats, urgency in her voice. “I need to get away from my parents! I’m almost done with my degree, and Boa promised me there’d definitely be a position for me in their company for whenever I want it. I’m sure you’d find a job, easily, with how good you are. We could start over!” “In China!?” He feels like he’s been thrown into an absurd dream. There’s no way he’s hearing things right. But Gwiboon only nods firmly. “Yes, in China! It’s not like it’s on the other side of the world!” She’s still holding on to him, as if he’s the only thing anchoring her to reality right now. That’s pretty much how she feels, too. She’s still shaking with anger, but now there’s also something like hope rising in the midst of it. All of that is crushed when he opens his mouth to reply. He sighs, and closes his eyes for a second before meeting her gaze again. “I can’t,” he says, as softly as he can. “Gwiboon, I can’t. You know that.” She lets go of him like she’s been burned. The hurt is clear on her face, the disappointment, laced with confusion, and she takes several steps back. It makes something in Minho ache, and he wants to pull her back close, but he knows he needs to make her calm down somehow, to see how unreasonable she’s being. “It’s taken me years to build up the garage, and it’s finally starting to do better, I can’t just abandon it and leave,” he begins with the most obvious part. He hates the look in her eyes, but he has to be honest. “And Gwiboon, think about it. I know you have close friends in China but you have friends here, too. You don’t really want to leave them behind, do you? You’re just angry. You don’t want this.” “Oh I don’t?” Just like that, the myriad of feelings is replaced by sheer anger again and she doesn’t care how the volume of her voice gets higher and higher. “Now you know what’s best for me? You know what I fucking think!? It’s not enough my parents tell me what to do, but now you have to do it too!? I am perfectly capable of thinking on my own, thank you very much!” This is starting to go horribly wrong. “Gwiboon, I didn’t mean –” Gwiboon has none of it, she interrupts him with an impatient hand gesture and by speaking right over him. “You did. And I am not going to stand here while you coax me into living my life like you want me to. I’m tired of people telling me what to do! I haven’t made one single important decision without considering the feelings of everyone around me, and I’m sick and tired of it!” “But…” “No! You made yourself very clear. You don’t want me? Fine, you won’t have me!” Quickly, she spins around and marches to the door, only pausing for a moment when she’s already halfway out of the apartment. “I was willing to leave everything behind for you. I guess it was just another dumb decision. Since apparently everyone knows those are all I ever do on my own.” She slams the door. Minho stands there, not even knowing what hit him.

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asndfgnjk I’m sorry I’m so late ;;